


Sunburst

by wolf_and_bard



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Ficlet, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Angst, Pre-Slash, maybe like one swear word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 09:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30036672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolf_and_bard/pseuds/wolf_and_bard
Summary: "It's just... I can accept your hopeless exaggerations of our adventures and your blatant lies about various entanglements with long-lost princesses, but I will not let you romanticize my eyes."Jaskier knew he should react in some manner sensitive to what Geralt had just uttered, understood that there was something wounded and fragile that spoke for the Witcher. He was dumbstruck.Our adventures. Our adventures. Our. Fuck.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 184





	Sunburst

**Author's Note:**

> A small drabble because the scenario stuck in my head. Already posted this on tumblr (under my Witcher account wolf-and-bard) but thought why not on here too. Someone might enjoy :)

"Heed not silver's hiss, nor the werewolf's cries.  
Take heart, find strength in sunburst eyes."

The verse was solid, a simple rhyme, easy and effective, but the notes slipped away from the metre, not at all willing to harmonize. Jaskier parted his lips on a smile and went for a minor chord instead of the major one he had been strumming. In his head, the song had always played with an uplifting skip to the rhythm and ripe, round chords and yet, it resisted that shape. Perhaps a little gravitas wouldn't go amiss.

"No," Geralt grunted and his finger's clamped down over Jaskier's on the lute's neck so fast that the instrument gave an indignant shriek. A glacial distance had stolen into Geralt's voice and his hand was icy over Jaskier's which was warmed from playing, warmed from the softly crackling fire they had stoked for the night. An early outbreak of spring had beckoned Jaskier from his winter residency at his cousin's manor and he had happened upon Geralt wrestling a water hag back into the Yaruga. They had landed themselves some contract or other, Jaskier would take note of the details later, but their quarry was another day's ride to the South. The perfect opportunity for catching up in the flame's cradle.

"Would you mind?" Jaskier asked on a pretend-huff. His mind reeled. Geralt had been grumpy to begin with, all hacked-off growls and ravines between his eyebrows, but the miasmic ire that oozed from him now reached whole new levels. This wasn't a bad mood easily fixed with a vulgar shanty or a friendly neck massage.

"I would."

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Geralt said. Glower would have been too nice a word for the way his eyes bore into Jaskier's.

"Oh no, no, no, no," Jaskier said, wagging his finger at Geralt. "Either you explain yourself or you let me go back to writing my song."

"It's just... I can accept your hopeless exaggerations of our adventures and your blatant lies about various entanglements with long-lost princesses, but I will not let you romanticize my eyes."

Jaskier knew he should react in some manner sensitive to what Geralt had just uttered, understood that there was something wounded and fragile that spoke for the Witcher. He was dumbstruck.

Our adventures. Our adventures. Our. Fuck.

"Huh?"

"Do you know what they do to a Witcher to improve his eyesight?" Geralt asked. Something more than a growl had lodged in his chest, a rumble of thunder that would either trigger an avalanche to bury them both or never crash down at all. Jaskier relinquished his hold on that silly pronoun.

"Yeah," Jaskier said, voice airy with a sigh he held back. He gently pried the instrument out of Geralt's iron-grip, and put it to the side. Poor thing creaked in protest. "I do."

"What? How?" Geralt shifted, body leaning closer to Jaskier. Some of his coldness melted as the flames danced high on his cheeks. Shit. His eyes were brilliantly beautiful. Jaskier would have dedicated a whole set to their radiance if his audience would have allowed such a thing. If Geralt wouldn't have minded.

"Read it in a book... didn't think it mattered to you, the way they look. I've sung about them before." Jaskier shrugged. Geralt had gone back to staring daggers at the fire. It irked Jaskier, that he had been the cause for this... this distance between them. Time spent apart usually didn't impact the quality of their friendship, but this winter seemed to have cracked something. Jaskier prayed his song hadn't been the final blow.

"Mustn't have listened."

"Geralt." Jaskier ran his fingers through his hair and when he sighezs again, his breath shook. Geralt looked up sharply. "I'm sorry."

"Hmm."

"Geralt?"

"What?"

"Is something the matter?"

"Everything's just peachy." With that, Geralt stood up and grabbed his sword scabbards, slinging them over his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"Thought I heard something. Don't wait up."

Jaskier watched his Witcher disappear into the thicket and nodded when Roach neighed disapprovingly. Any other day, he would have hurtled after Geralt with his mental quill and a shabby first-aid kit at the ready, but something about Geralt's tone held him back.

  
When Jaskier blinked awake the next morning, it was to the soft patter of rain on a tarp Geralt had put up over their bedrolls and the small fire that was still burning. Jaskier stretched, joints popping, before he joined Geralt by the low flame, the Witcher already in gear.

"I don't mind," Geralt said and handed Jaskier a stick with freshly roasted hare, a chunk of bread as a side. Jaskier took both and sat, as close to Geralt as he dared.

"Good morning to you too," Jaskier said on a yawn. A dream clung to the edge of his awareness, a blurry tangle of fingers trailing scars, of warmth and fires and whispered confessions. He blushed and pushed it aside. Ignored the tug on his stomach even as their knees brushed together, elbows bumping as they ate.

"About the eyes. I don't mind, write your song," Geralt said when he was done.

"Uhm." Jaskier swallowed, then chased the last of his meat with a sip from his water bag. "You sure about that? Because yesterday it seemed as though you minded. A lot."

"I don't think I understand you," Geralt replied. He toed the fire, but his eyes, those sunburst eyes were kind, fixed on Jaskier's and forming words was very hard all of a sudden. Impossible.

"What's there to understand?"

"The songs about adventure, about monster dens and dragons and drama, they all make sense. They make money. But why the fuck would you dedicate a second thought to my freak eyes? They're part of why people shy away from me."

Oh. Well, there was only one appropriate answer to that.

"Honestly, Witcher, if you haven't figured it out by now, perhaps I should sing a song about your dwindling wit." Because he felt daring, Jaskier leaned over and placed a feathery kiss on Geralt's cheek, then rose and gathered his clothes.

"Where are you going?"

"To find a stream to wash in. I won't be long."

Jaskier made to leave their clearing, but before he could, Geralt had grabbed his wrist and spun him around so he stumbled face-first into the Witcher's chest. Strong arms wrapped around him, a hand roughened by years of sword-fighting came up to cradle his head. Jaskier melted a little, inside and out.

"I never say this," Geralt grunted. "But I appreciate you."

Jaskier smiled. He had known, of course. He knew Geralt better than perhaps Geralt himself did. Nevertheless, his heart fluttered. It was good to hear it.

  
"Geralt, dear?" Jaskier asked much later when they were packing up camp.

"Hmm?"

"If the eye thing wasn't the actual issue, why were you so moody?"

Geralt shrugged and turned away abruptly. Too slow to hide the flush of his cheeks. "Acid reflux," the Witcher said lamely and shrugged again.

"Acid reflux?" Jaskier raised an eyebrow. Was that Witcher code for... no, of course not. Jaskier was doomed to pining for the rest of his life. Surely.

"Only happens when I see you."

Surely.


End file.
